The past three weeks have been life-shaping. I think I am likely to look back on this time and mark it as a catalyst for huge change. While it has stretched me and challenged me, it has also given me pause to reflect on some of the darkest days in my past and the individuals who came across my path during those times.
I must say this: there are some people whose approach to loving me saved my life during that time. When I look back, it was not those people who shouted Bible references at me from their elevated positions. It wasn’t people who judged my behaviors or called out my “hard heart” in passing or spread stories about my actions (true or false) or who pushed me away, rejected me, or who demanded that I show up in certain ways before I could be worthy of their companionship and love. Instead, it was individuals who spoke the truth to me consistently, while walking beside me, who helped to draw me out of the darkness. It was through their love and grace and patience, and not the legalism and self righteousness of others, that I saw the face of Christ over and over again. There were several friends throughout my Faulkner Academy and Storer Elementary days who displayed this love to me. I remember vividly times when my friend Cindy would display love and radical welcome to me in a wide variety of ways from the minute to the major. She spoke the truth to me all the time, even when it was hard to hear, but she did so with such love. I know, in no uncertain terms, that my behaviors were hurtful to her in more than a few instances. However, she didn’t push me away or cast me out. Instead, she drew me closer, knowing that care, compassion, and empathy is exactly what my aching heart needed. I clearly remember a time when she literally knelt beside me and held me as I heaved sobs of pain. She never made me feel unworthy of her love. She never demanded change (needed as it was) as a prerequisite for her friendship or for me to have a place at her table. I did not have the capacity or the depth at that time to repay her kindness and self sacrifice. I doubt I will ever be able to repay her. I shudder to think where my life would be without her. The light of Christ shone more brightly through her than almost anyone in my life. In the past few months, I have been saddened to see the lack of grace and compassion that has been extended to immigrants, children, orphans, and victims of childhood trauma at the hand of “Christians.” At this crossroads in my life, I pray for the strength to extend the hand of Christ like Cindy did to me 10 years ago: with humility, grace, and love. It is my passion to evaluate what it really means to come
alongside people who are hurting. I pray that I am able to continue to raise my children to walk humbly, speak up bravely for justice, and spread love wherever they go. I also pray that our family is surrounded by people like Cindy as we prepare to bring our babies home. We will need love in the active sense. We will not need judgements or self righteousness or opinions from every corner. We will need to see the hands and face of Christ through “our people.” I pray that we can both give and receive this beautiful gift.
